


Diana Granger and the Dubious Petting Zoo

by the_whore_of_pastry



Series: Diana Granger & the Warm Lizards [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diana Granger OC, Dragons, Harry Potter - Freeform, Hogwarts, Hufflepuff x Slytherin friendship, Interhouse gays, Magical Creatures, Mystery, Not Now Chance Part 2, Prisoner of Azkaban, Second year, Sirius vs Chance, interhouse friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-06-13 14:30:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_whore_of_pastry/pseuds/the_whore_of_pastry
Summary: If Hermione had had a sister, maybe her story would look something like this… Diana and company are back for their second year at Hogwarts! But with a string of mysterious attacks and the ongoing battle with an old enemy, this year might prove to be even more eventful - and more dangerous - than the last…





	1. The Return

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: We're back with the next in the Warm Lizards series! Uploads might be a little slower than we'd like but they are coming. Hope you enjoy! :)

Emerging onto Platform 9¾ is like taking the first breath of air after a long stretch underwater. My face breaks into a smile the second I've cleared the wall that hides the wizarding world. As expected, the platform's crammed with hordes of people, the air thick with voices and anticipation and the billowing steam of the Hogwarts Express. There's something beautiful about the quaint chaos, familiar and warm.

"Diana?"

I blink out the trance, and look to my best friend. Her grey-green eyes are surveying my expression, brows raised.

"You look like such a tourist right now." Suzette shakes her head, grinning.

"Well, I sort of am, aren't I?" I say, hoisting my trunk forwards. "Y'know, a clueless visitor from the Muggle world?"

"Hmm - clueless Muggle visitors don't tend to have _those_." She nods to the wand I stuck in my ponytail before sprinting through the barrier.

"I might as well be, anyway." I shrug, reaching up to retrieve it. "Don't think I've mastered this thing yet." I recall how much I struggled with schoolwork during my first year as I pocket my wand.

Suzette frowns. "Hey, you were under a lot of stress last year. The Chamber of Secrets, those Petrifications…" The seriousness melts into a smile. "Dragon parenting."

"Co-parenting, you mean," I start to laugh. Suzette may have a point. Even if I've never really had my sister's intelligence, I definitely didn't help my grades when I decided that the best way to spend my first year at Hogwarts would be buying an illegal dragon egg and hatching it in the Forbidden Forest. Still, as crazy and reckless as our pastime was, I can't bring myself to think of our very own Slovakian Sunbeam, Krispy, with anything but fondness.

"Anyway, I'm not allowed to do that kind of thing this year." I say, before I go my normal route and get totally swallowed up by thoughts of Krispy.

She pouts. "Aw, going full Ravenclaw?"

"Hey, I'll always be a badger at heart! I just promised Hermione I'd keep out of trouble." _Many, many times._

"Yeah, right." She teases. "Speaking of, where's she meeting you?"

I think back to the last conversation I had with my sister, before I went to stay at Suzette's for the final week of the holidays. "Here, I think - she said not to move too far from the barrier." I squint through the crowds for any sign of her, but I'm not blessed with much height. "Any sign?" I ask a substantially taller Suzette.

She arches her neck and peers across the platform. "Not yet- oh, wait!" She narrows her eyes. "I think- yep, that's her!"

I strain onto tiptoes - still not much help - and wave my arms wildly. "Hermione!"

And after a few moments, I can just make her out - my sister, hurrying towards us in a blur of bushy brown hair. She navigates the crowd with surprising skill, managing to quickly edge through the crush and come to meet us. Her eyes light up when they land on me. "Diana!"

"Hi!" I break into a broad smile and reach up to hug her - then stop when I see her arms are already otherwise occupied. By a huge, flat-faced ginger cat, that is.

"Who is _this?!_ " I exclaim, dropping down to tickle its ears.

"This is Crookshanks." Hermione beams. "I got him as an early birthday present from this shop in Diagon Alley… no one else wanted him!"

Suzette's eyes soften as she too reaches down to stroke him. "Awww…"

I stifle a grin. Suzette would always turn from a typically sharp and sarcastic Slytherin to absolute mush around Krispy when he was little, and it looks like she's the same with cats.

"Hey, if you ever need anyone to babysit…" She smiles up at Hermione.

"Get in line." I tell her. "I'm first choice for looking after him, sister's right."

"Thanks for the offers, but I think he can take care of himself." Hermione laughs. "Anyway, are you OK? Were your parents alright having Diana, Suzette?"

"Of course! Any time, they said. She made a good impression."

Hermione nods approvingly. "And did you get everything you need from Diagon Alley?"

"Well, now I wish I'd got a cat." I say, still ruffling the coarse ginger fur between my fingers. "But yep, everything except for that."

"All your textbooks? Everything from that list in your letter?" She quizzes.

I can't help but grin. "You trying to cram the last week's worth of checking into right now?"

"Possibly." She gives me a one-armed hug which is cut abruptly short when Crookshanks begins to slide out of her arms. "I'd better head back and say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley." She puffs, heaving him back into place. "But you'll come and find me if you need me, won't you?"

"I will." I promise, giving Crookshanks the cat one last tickle.

"See you later, then. And good to see you again, Suzette!"

"You too, Hermione!"

My sister hurries off through the crowd. I watch until she's out of sight, then turn to Suzette. "We should probably get going as well if we want a compartment."

She nods and tucks a tendril of dark hair behind her ear. My best friend looks especially great today in a sleeveless blouse and navy blue skirt, her glossy dark braid pinned across her head, olive skin glowing. I'm a little less put-together in my blue jeans and home-knitted jumper (slightly too warm for the mild September weather, but I'm too proud of the dragon crest - Krispy-inspired, of course - on the front to take it off). I'm pondering the possibility of making another one as we approach the train, trying to stick together and keep from being jostled over in the crazy crush.

"Oi!" Someone yells. "Diana! Suzette!"

I look to my friend; from her face I know that she's recognised the voice as well. Turning on my heels, I break into a grin at the sight of our Gryffindor friend charging towards us - a stocky fair-haired boy, already decked out in a red-and-gold scarf. I met Atticus on the platform this time last year, and after a kind of explosive introduction, he and Suzette hit it off as well - a pretty major achievement, given the open warfare between their two houses.

"Attie, hey!" I grin at him as he hurries towards us.

"Merlin, you two walk fast." He puffs, running a hand through his treacle-coloured curls. "I've been calling you for ages!"

"You were being drowned out by half the school." I point my thumb over my shoulder towards the mass of students.

"Very selfish of them." Suzette shakes her head. "How was the rest of your summer? I haven't seen you since you were over in the second week."

"It was great! Even if I had to put up with Sybella's love-struck stuff." He pulls a face. "What's Lance been like?" He asks Suzette.

She shrugs. "No difference really… his head may have become slightly bigger, but it's a close thing."

I grin to myself. It was clear throughout all of last year that Atticus' cousin and Suzette's brother were interested in each other, but I think their recent relationship may be taking their family members some getting used to.

"On a less icky note, want to get a compartment together? We can catch up more there." I offer.

Atticus nods enthusiastically. "Sure - I'm with Chance, but I'm sure he'll find me."

The three of us make our way onto the train, prepared for the usual battle for compartments. After a couple of knocks and near-misses with swinging bags, we manage to snag what might be the last empty compartment. Suzette sits down and opens up a crisp copy of the _Daily Prophet_ satisfactorily, but I am less at ease.

"So, where's Chance?" I ask, slightly warily. Attie's childhood friend and fellow Gryffindor is pretty much the human incarnation of a migraine.

"He just had to run back and check he'd brought his broom polish; he said he'd meet me on the train."

"Great." I say, through ever so slightly gritted teeth. As my eyes flicker onto Suzette, leafing idly through the _Prophet_ , I'm struck by a sudden problem. Chance can barely come within fifty yards of a green-striped tie without bursting into flames; I really can't see him peacefully co-existing with my sharp-tongued and resolutely Slytherin friend.

The same problem has likely occurred to Atticus, if the way he's anxiously chewing on his lip is anything to go by, but he doesn't say anything. Maybe he's hoping that, given our current lack of uniforms, Chance won't remember Suzette or her house, but I wouldn't bet on it; last year he went on a short-lived but intense tirade where he accused her of being the Heir of Slytherin. Besides, Suzette's face isn't one most people tend to forget in a hurry.

"Yeah…" Atticus leans forward, his expression brightening suddenly. "Anyway, I've been dying to ask about Krispy…"

"Good, because I'm always desperate to talk about him." I jump in.

"Who, you?" Suzette gasps in mock-surprise, nodding to my jumper. I stick my tongue out at her.

Attie laughs. "So…?"

"So, he's _giant_ now. Seriously, he's grown so much you'd barely know it was him." I spread my arms in a vague estimate. "And he can hunt for himself fine."

"He's brutally massacred every squirrel on our estate." Suzette chips in.

"May they rest in peace in Krispy's stomach." Atticus grins. "And... that's it?"

"What d'you mean? Squirrel massacres aren't enough?"

"It's all been good? You haven't heard anything more from those- those guys, right?" He asks, voice low.

All of a sudden, I know why he sounds so worried. Near the end of last year we very nearly lost Krispy forever to a pair of mysterious kidnappers. It took the three of us, plus Suzette's brothers, Atticus' cousin and the excellent timing of Krispy's own first flame to get rid of them.

"No," I tell him. "We never saw anything suspicious. And Suz's family have really strong warding charms around their estate, so it'd be super hard to break in."  
Atticus exhales in relief.

"And also, even if they did, I think Krispy could take care of himself." I continue. "I've seen his flames, they're pretty amazing now. He's-"

"Sh!" Suzette cuts in, nodding towards the door. I shut my mouth smartish, right before Chance Binkins barges into the compartment.

He looks as a remember him (just an inch or so taller, maybe) - plump, scarlet-faced and unsmiling.

"Hey, Chance!" Atticus greets his friend. "You got it?"

"Yeah. Can you imagine if I'd left it? I might not've made the team, which would've been total bull-" He stops mid-sentence as his eyes land on Suzette. She looks up from her newspaper, blinks once at his scandalised expression and then flashes him a winning smile. I'm pretty sure I see the beginnings of steam coming out his ears.

He turns slowly to to his fellow Gryffindor. "What's going on?"

"Er - nothing?" Atticus shrugs, obviously clawing for nonchalance. "Come on, sit down."

Chance ignores him completely. "What is she doing here?!"

Faint irritation flits over Attie's face. "Come on, Chance, can't you just-?"

"No, I can't!" He cuts in. "I'll be down the carriageway, if you decide to remember which house you belong to after all."

He turns on his heel and makes every effort to slam the compartment door shut, but it's so stiff the best he can manage is an anticlimactic heave. Chance growls one last time and storms out of sight.

There's a moment's silence then Atticus sighs loudly. "Um...sorry about that, Suzette."

"No, no," she says lightly, clearly trying to stop a grin from tugging at the corner of her mouth.

He cringes. "I really didn't think he'd be that bad."

Having met the guy last year, I had no trouble anticipating Chance's reaction, but Attie looks genuinely disheartened.

"Maybe he'll come around." I suggest, trying to cheer him up. "I mean, you were pretty anti-Slytherin this time last year, weren't you? He could just be taking a bit longer to figure it out."

He nods slowly, probably thinking of our train journey here last year (with Chance, minus Suzette). He was definitely not a Slytherin fan.

"I guess so." He looks at Suz thoughtfully. "I didn't really change my mind until I talked to you properly."

"Maybe I need to start up a business." She says, smirking slightly. "Converting people from Slytherin hatred with nothing but my sparkling charm."

"Don't get cocky, your sparkling charm clearly didn't do much for Chance." I tease.

"Well, no one has a perfect success rate," she shrugs, examining her fingernails.

At that, there's a timid knock on the door.

"Maybe he _has_ changed his mind!" Atticus says hopefully, but Chance isn't the type to knock timidly - or even to knock at all. I squint through the glass and get a glimpse of a small, nervously hunched figure with a mop of light brown hair. I'm almost certain of who it is.

I jump to my feet and pull open the sliding door. "Greg!"

My house-mate gives me a typically nervous smile. "Hi… Could I- maybe sit with you?"

"Of course!" I beam at him. "Come in!"

Greg shuffles into the compartment and perches on the empty seat next to mine. My fellow Hufflepuff is painfully shy.

"Hi, Greg." Atticus says, offering him a friendly smile.

"Hello." He gives a timid one back, and then his eyes flicker over to Suzette. He hastily looks down, like he half expects her to start spitting venom.

They've never actually been formally introduced, I remember. "Er- Greg, this is Suzette." I announce.

I raise my eyebrows at her. _Be nice._

"Hey, Greg. Good to meet you." She says pleasantly.

He gives a nervous nod, and then looks out the window.

 _Well, I suppose it could've gone worse,_ I shrug to myself. He's not running screaming, that's a start - though it might be worth trying to steer us away from awkward introductions.

"What's happening, then?" I ask Suzette, nodding towards the _Prophet._

She shakes out her paper. "Well, the big thing's still Sirius Black."

I swallow. Thanks to Hermione's _Daily Prophet_ subscription, I've heard all about the escaped mass-murderer. Thirteen people dead with one spell… a crater in the street. Magic that powerful and that terrible is hard to imagine.

"No sightings?" Atticus asks.

She shakes her head. "They don't even have a trace. It's like he's vanished into thin air."

Beside me, Greg shivers slightly.

"It's OK," I tell him. "We'll be totally safe at Hogwarts!"

"Yeah, there's no Basilisk anymore…" Atticus says, though I'm not sure bringing up giant, monstrous serpents is the quickest way to calm his nerves. "But - er, more importantly, no one will be able to get into the castle. And the whole country's on the lookout for Black, even Muggles."

"Anything else going on?" I ask, thinking that it might be wise to ditch the topic of escaped mass murderers.

"Hmm… it's mostly Black…" She hesitates, looking suddenly uncertain. "And…"

"And?" I prompt.

Suzette swallows. "And- Thaddeus Lightclaw…"

I look down, my back-to-school excitement dying out like embers on dampened wood. It was less than a week ago when I found out that my favourite author had died.

It didn't help that I'd been right in the midst of _Lightclaw's Guide to the Magical Creatures of Europe_ , the new book Hermione had given me for my birthday by the same brilliant writer. After devouring his most famous work, _Fire and Fang_ \- all about dragons, naturally - over the course of last year, I'd been overjoyed when she'd presented me with another book of his for my twelfth birthday.

And when a few days later a parcel arrived, along with a 'sorry it's late!' note from my brilliant but not-so-brilliantly organised best friend, I'd laughed out loud when I'd unwrapped it to find _Lightclaw's Guide to the Magical Creatures of South America._

"Look what Suzette's sent me!" I'd exclaimed to Hermione, flashing the two book covers in her direction.

"Great minds think alike," she'd nodded wisely, examining Suzette's gift. "I did consider getting you that one, actually; it's his most recent work. I think he might be going through all the continents."

"That's got you two covered for presents for the next few years, then." I'd grinned.

"Oh, dear - I'd so wanted to get you started on _Advanced Potion Making_ …" She'd teased.

"Don't you dare!"

But I'd barely got three chapters into _Europe_ when, just a few days later, Hermione knocked softly on my door. The face that peeped around the door looked worryingly grave. "Have you got a minute?"

"Why, what's wrong?" I'd asked, feeling the beginnings of anxiety.

Hermione walked into the room and settled on my bed, and it was only then that I'd noticed that she was carrying a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ under her arm.

"What is it?"

She swallowed. "It's Thaddeus Lightclaw. He's- he's died, Diana. I'm really sorry."

I gaped at her, totally gobsmacked. "What?"

She nodded slowly, handed me the newspaper.

"But he was so well." I heard myself say. "Ready to go off travelling around the world...tracking new species of creatures…"

"I know. It was very sudden."

She'd offered me the paper, and I'd skimmed the article.

'The Daily Prophet _is sad to report the death of Professor Thaddeus Lightclaw, Order of Merlin, Third Class. The well-known author, 91, passed away suddenly at his home in Yorkshire on Tuesday night. Mr Lightclaw reportedly fell ill within only two hours and was found dead in his office by his distraught son-in-law._

_"It's a real shock," says Suranne Ramos, Mr Lightclaw's daughter. "He was in good health - engrossed in some new research, had another trip to South America planned for a fortnight's time. It's quite unbelievable. We're all absolutely devastated to have lost him."_

_St. Mungos Healers are still unsure about the cause of death, though have ruled out all common wizarding maladies. We at the Prophet extend our deepest condolences to Mr Lightclaw's family and urge the wizarding world at large to do the same.'_

I slumped on my bed and watched my room start to blur at the edges. I would've been gutted by this anyway, but what made it a hundred times worse is that I actually know his grandson. Javier Ramos is a fellow Hufflepuff, and, as I found out at the very end of last year, just so happens to be related to one of my wizarding heroes. He even got me an autograph, a yellowed piece of parchment covered in spiky black writing, tucked carefully inside my copy of _Fire and Fang_.

 _Dear Diana_ , it reads. _Always good to hear of another dragon fan! Wishing you the happiest of reading, Thaddeus Lightclaw._

"He's the one you got the autograph from, right?" Atticus asks now, bringing me back to the present.

I nod slowly. "We both did, didn't we?" I say, looking to Greg.

My friend jerks his head. I wonder if he was as cut up by the news as I was, but I think that's the sort of question I should ask him alone. Instead I chew on the inside of my cheek and stare out the window, watching the fields slice by and the recently-started rain slide down the windows.

"Hey, this is pretty strange…" Suzette says suddenly, probably trying to drag me away from my sadness.

I pull myself back, swallow hard. "What's that?"

She scans her newspaper. "A man from Cornwall's been attacked by a Fire Crab."

"Really?" I say, frowning. "That is really weird. Why did it attack?"

"It doesn't look like it was of its own accord."

"What, someone set it on him or something?!" Atticus asks.

"Looks like it." She shakes out the paper. _"'34-year-old Ministry worker Vincent Thor came around to find nothing but scorch marks on the floor and a note reading, 'Regards from Chimaera.''"_

A sudden shiver slides down my neck, and I jolt forward.

Atticus blinks at me. "What's wrong?"

"I- I don't know." I say, slowly. "Something about that name, Chimaera - it seemed…"

Suzette frowns as I tail off. "Seemed?"

"Uh, familiar." I wrack my brains furiously, but I've got nothing. "Ah, well." I shrug, slightly embarrassed. "I'm probably wrong."

"Your magical creature obsession is finally catching up with you." Suzette says, offering me a smile.

I shake my head, trying to bat away the feeling of _deja vu._ "You might be right. Anyway, let's talk about something else! Are you lot all happy to be going back?"

Atticus nods emphatically. "Of course! I can't wait to see our common room again...and I just _know_ that we're gonna win the House Cup this year…."

"Eh. Work." Suzette shrugs.

The rest of the journey passes pleasantly. When the trolley witch comes around, we all fork over our Sickles for pumpkin pasties, Liquorice Wands and a large stack of Chocolate Frogs. Everyone commences into mad Chocolate Frog Card swapping - even Greg seems to be having his own quiet form of fun. He's stopped looking scared every time Suzette opens her mouth, which has got to be a good thing, anyway. As the train rolls on, the rain gets heavier, greying the view and spattering the windows with droplets. The sound of it, along with the rhythm of the wheels on the tracks, lull me into a state of laid-back laziness. The sky outside darkens to the colour of ink as I bite the head of what has to be my eighth Chocolate Frog, now nearing the last leg of our journey.

"Godric Gryffindor." I say, extracting the card.

"I'll trade you!" Atticus offers immediately, waving a stack of his in my direction.

I swallow the chocolate and tilt my head. "What? Don't you already have thirteen of Godric Gryffindor, Attie?" This was one of the first things he told me when we met last year, I remember.

"Fourteen, now!" He says brightly. "I've got a nice collection going!"

"I don't think you really grasped how _collecting_ is supposed to work, Atticus." Suzette teases. "The idea is to get as many wizards as possible, not to stockpile one."

"Well, you have to make exceptions for the greats." He shrugs. "So, Diana?"

I laugh and hand over my card. "Go on, then."

" _So_ obsessed." Suzette shakes her head despairingly.

"Aw, you're just bitter because no one wants your mean snake man." He grins at her.

"'Mean snake man?' Wow, Attie - I'm sure Salazar Slytherin is crying in his grave…"

"Can you two leave the House Cup competition until we're actually at school?" I grin. "I mean, both of you are totally..."

I tail off. The train seems to be slowing down, the _clack-clack-clack_ sound juddering to a halt. I frown in confusion, watch the same expression dawn on my friends' faces.

"Why're we stopping?"

"Have we broken down or something?"

Suzette peers out her window, now entirely black, then turns back to us and shrugs. "I've no idea - I can't see a thing."

The train comes to a sharp stop that jolts Atticus' rucksack down from the luggage compartment, narrowly missing his head.

And then, right on cue, the lights go out and we're plunged into total darkness.

" _Lumos!"_ A bright pinprick flickers and dies at the end of Atticus' wand. "Damn it- _Lumos!"_

This time, the spell is successful; faint light spills into the carriage, illuminating the confusion and worry on my friends' faces.

Even in the dimness, I can tell how pale Greg's skin has blanched. "What's happening?" He asks.

"No idea." I say. "Maybe we-"

But I stop mid-sentence, cut off by a chill that seeps into the compartment and fills the air with ice. There's something outside… the sound of something breathing, something almost human - but not quite.

With horror, I watch the door handle rattle, and then begin to turn.


	2. New Threats, Old Enemies

The door slides open.

Silhouetted in the doorway is a towering figure, swamped by a flowing black cloak. It floats, as if the air around it is water. My gaze snags on the hand protruding from its robes - skeletal and scabbed, glistening in the faint light, and a sick feeling spawns in my stomach. Slowly, the creature moves towards us, filling the compartment with frost and the sound of its strained, rattling breaths.

Time seems to slow. I try to think, to push through the fog in my head and figure out the rational, reasonable explanation for what's happening - something about the creature seems familiar, I know it does - but I can't move quickly enough. The thing is upon me now, advancing closer and closer.

I squeeze my eyes shut - and the image of Hermione's Petrified face flashes behind my lids. I jolt back into my seat, breathing hard.

_She's fine. She's down the carriageway. Diana. Breathe._

I'm frozen solid, consumed by fear. But the cloaked creature has moved on - to Greg. It leans down, just inches from his face, and his body stiffens. He judders, eyes rolling up into his head.

"Greg?!" I panic, my voice coming out strangled.

He doesn't respond, just tremors wildly in his seat. The hooded thing gives another long, rattling breath, and Greg begins to scream.

It doesn't move, totally unshaken by the sudden shrieking. "Go away!" I shout at it - laughably uselessly. My head is scrambled.

But the creature loses interest anyway. It pulls back, and with one last hiss of a breath, it retreats back out the compartment, the door sliding shut. But still Greg shakes and screams.

I shake his shoulder his shoulder. "Greg?!"

"No! _No!_ " He shouts, and I look desperately to Atticus and Suzette, at a total loss for what to do - but the two of them look equally dumbfounded, equally scared.

"What do we do?! How do we help him?" I ask frantically.

Suzette stands up, herself shaking from head to foot. "Maybe we need to find a Prefect or something-"

"Greg, can you hear me?" I demand.

And then, as if someone's flicked a switch, it stops. The screams taper down to whimpers, then to nothing. Soft brown irises reappear in his eyes and he looks around the compartment, the fit calming to a softer trembling. Greg sits up.

"Wha- what just-" He swallows. "What happened?"

I'm just about to answer - just about to try to - when the lights flare back on, flooding the compartment with a reassuring golden glow. The train begins to move forward once again.

For a moment there is silence, apart from the renewed clatter of wheels on the track. Greg's eyes are huge as they dart frantically around the compartment.

"Are you alright?" I clamour.

He heaves a breath inwards. "I- I think so…"

"We can take you to the hospital wing as soon as we get to school." Attie says, leaning over in concern.

Greg nods, still spaced out. "But what happened?"

I don't even know how to start explaining it, but before I can figure it out, Suzette's talking. "This - thing - came inside the compartment. Like a hooded figure, but floating."

Greg looks down. "I think I remember…"

"It came around us, and then it got to you and you sort of… screamed, and shook." I say slowly. "It was like you were having a seizure or something."

"It was?" He blinks. "Did- did no one else react like that? Just me?"

I shrug uncomfortably. "Not exactly, no - but I felt terrible."

"Me too." Atticus says. "Like I'd never feel happy again."

Suzette shuts her eyes. "What _was_ that thing?" Her normally olive skin has paled to near-white, and her voice trembles slightly.

I breathe in, trying to settle my nerves. The logic that escaped me is returning in glimpses. "I think... it might have been a Dementor."

"A Dementor?" She repeats. "What on earth is that?"

Atticus looks confused. "I've never heard of them either."

"Well, I only have because of this book I'm reading." I say, thinking of the description I read in Hermione's birthday present. "It says that they make you feel hopeless and despairing… that they can make you relive your worst memories..."

I swallow as the image of my Petrified sister slips into my head. "I guess some people have more extreme reactions than others."

At that, everyone turns back to Greg.

"Are you sure you don't want us to get a Prefect or someone?" I ask worriedly. "There might even be a teacher on board we could ask…"

But he shakes his head. "I don't- I don't want everyone knowing."

And as much as I'd like to, it's pretty difficult to argue with that.

The rest of the journey passes in near silence. If it weren't for Greg, I'd be off down the carriage looking for my sister. I need to see her face, see her alive and well and breathing. As it is, I anxiously bite my fingernails to the quick and glance at Greg's white face every few seconds. He doesn't seem to notice, staring out the pitch-black window as if entranced. Across from us, I can't help but notice that Suzette and Atticus are sitting slightly closer together than they were before the Dementor attack.

I'm not at all sorry when the train, once again, begins to slow and slides to a stop at Hogsmeade Station. We stumble out into the sheets of rain, hiking up our hoods uselessly. It could be my imagination, but the whole crowd of students seems more subdued than normal - the buzz of conversation I remember from last year is dampened significantly. I guess that a Dementor swooping into your compartment kills your excitement pretty quickly.

Last year, we travelled over the great lake on little boats, but it looks like that's just a first-year tradition, because the rest of us are heralded towards a series of carriages lined up by the side of the road. I climb in, then help pull Greg up; Atticus and Suzette follow. Once we're settled, the carriage begins to move off, despite the lack of a horse - or anything at all, for that matter - at the front.

"What's pulling them?" I wonder aloud.

"As long as it's not a bloody Dementor, I don't mind." Suzette mutters. For the first time in a while, Atticus and I break into weak laughter, and I feel a small, bracing spark of warmth as the carriage rattles on.

A few minutes later, Atticus lifts his hand. "Look! There it is!"

I follow his arm, to palpable relief. Even now, I can't shake the joy that ripples through my chest at the sight of Hogwarts. The castle towers above us all, regal and proud; the lights of its windows are distorted to hazy smudges of gold by the pounding rain. It's beautiful, but more importantly it is safe, familiar, my home-away-from-home. I keep my eyes trained on it, watching the school grow larger and larger as we approach, right until the carriages jolt to a stop and we all jump down.

The four of us begin up the steep hill towards the school, matching our pace to Greg's unsteady limp. The rest of the students outpace us easily and we're among the last to straggle to the front door. I duck into the Entrance Hall after Suzette, relishing in the warmth after the long struggle through the storm.

"It's OK, we're nearly there now, Greg." Atticus says as he helps my fellow Hufflepuff inside.

I turn around to take his arm, nodding. "We can get you right up to the hospital wing to get checked out, then we can ask what that Dementor was doing on the train in the first place, and then..."

I tail off slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck pricking up. There's a sound stirring behind me, and not just the faint, self-contained conversation of the other students gathered nearer the door to the Great Hall. No, I hear laughter - slow, distinctive and confident. I have a terrible feeling I know exactly who it belongs to.

"Oh, _dear_." Someone says softly, his tone dripping mockery. "Another fainter?"

I tense. It's a voice I haven't heard in six weeks, and one I'd be happy to never hear again.

Spencer Richardson is my very own nemesis. A pure-blood Slytherin with money, status, skills - and a burning hatred for me, from pretty much the moment I stepped through the doors this time last year. He spent most of last year plaguing me with thinly veiled threats and not-at-all veiled insults, and it looks like he's doing the whole thing again.

I don't want to turn around and face him, but the snickers directed towards a visibly trembling Greg are making my blood boil. I spin on my heels.

And there he is, of course. Spencer Richardson is flanked by a group of students, a pack with hyena grins and Slytherin ties. There's a tall, pale boy with auburn hair and unsmiling features that I know to be his right-hand man, Marks, and a huddle of lesser cronies a little behind him: a guy with a large nose and a mess of brown hair, another with shoulders about twice as broad as me.

But at the centre, as always, is Richardson.

He was always tall, but the past couple of months' addition mean that he virtually towers over me now. Wiry black hair drips over his forehead, and the bones of his face are sharp and angled, cheeks hollowed. He's wearing a slight smirk, exposing a sliver of white, and his narrow amber eyes are fixed on me.

"No, for your information." I say, meeting his gaze and trying my hardest not to look intimidated by the wall of students. "He didn't faint."

"Ah." The smile stretches in satisfaction. "And what about you, Granger? You manage to stay on your feet in the face of the scary Dementor?"

He looks at me pointedly, still smiling, and I understand. Insulting Greg was a means to an end - the real intention is to let me know that he's keeping this up. The real intention is to get to me.

"She did, actually." Suzette says, folding her arms across her chest. "Don't know why that would come as a surprise to you, Richardson."

He raises his eyebrows. "Don't you?"

"No. I mean, she's survived your soul-sucking presence for a year."

He gives a hollow laugh. "Hilarious as ever, Suzette." But it only takes a moment for his eyes to land back on me. "So, you're back again, Granger?"

I fold my arms, try to inject as much sarcasm into my voice as possible. "Looks like it, doesn't it? Given this is the school I go to, and all that?"

He holds up his hands in mock-surrender. "No need to snap. I just thought you might have given up by now. Or that a few months in the Muggle world might've made you remember where you belong..."

"Really? You're still going on at her about this?" Atticus demands, stepping forward. "You haven't given this up this stupid little game yet?"

"Stupid game, Stark?" He raises one eyebrow. "You only say that because I always win."

"You didn't win last year." Atticus says, clenching his hands into fists. "The Chamber of Secrets was closed and no one died. Must have been such a huge disappointment to you."

He just laughs. "In case you missed that revelation, I didn't set that monster on anyone. That was someone from _your_ house, wasn't it?"

Atticus reddens slightly. "She was possessed. She didn't know what she was doing."

"She must fit in well with the rest of you Gryffindors, then." Marks says, and a ripple of laughter passes through the knot of students.

"Good one, Marks!" Wheezes Rooshlin, the gang's resident idiot, but no one pays any real attention to him. Then there's a high-pitched giggle from the only girl in the pack, a slight figure with a sheet of pale hair and eyes the colour of artichokes, half-hidden behind the broad-shouldered boy.

It only takes a moment for me to place her, and to realise why Suzette has suddenly stiffened. I suppose that seeing her oldest friend well and truly initiated into Richardson's gang has got to hit her hard.

"Don't know why you're laughing, TJ." Suzette says, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "I don't know why you're here at all."

TJ just shrugs. "You can do better, Suzette." She says carelessly.

" _You_ can do better." My best friend glares back. "Look around you!"

TJ sweeps her eyes to either side and smiles. "Yeah? You're welcome to join us, you know."

"You'll have to ditch the hangers-on, though." Richardson adds. "I don't like cowards…"

From behind me, I hear Greg's quickened, shallow breathing, and decide I've had enough of this.

"We need to go to the hospital wing." I say, but the wall of students doesn't budge an inch. "Get out the way."

When still no one moves, I shake my head and shoulder straight through anyway, tugging Greg by the arm.

"Running scared?" Richardson calls after me.

And even though I know that I should keep going as if I haven't heard him, I stop, in spite of myself, and turn my head. "I'm not scared of you." I hiss.

He steps closer. "Aren't you?" His eyes are clouded with malice. "More fool you, Mudblood."

I jerk backwards, fighting to keep my fists by my side. For the first time in my life, I realise that I genuinely hate someone.

"Going to get your wand out like you did last year?" He asks, voice low. "Try and scare me off with your pint-sized sparks?"

Diving for my wand would be a bad idea, on every level, and I'm not going to let him goad me into it. Before I can even think of what to say in retaliation, the sound of sharp footsteps and a cloak rustling over the floor cuts me off.

"What's going on here?" Asks Professor McGonagall crisply, surveying the scene with obvious suspicion.

For a moment, there's silence. Atticus and Marks are locked in a heated stare-down. Suzette is still glaring at her ex-friend, and Greg has once again inched fully behind my back. Me, I'm still looking at Richardson, into the same amber eyes that first welcomed me to Hogwarts, exactly a year ago.

But things are different now. I know who I'm dealing with - nothing he says or does will come as a surprise. Last year I was clueless - shocked by the things he called me, the things he said.

I am not clueless now.

I narrow my own eyes slightly. _Game on, Richardson._

"Well?" Professor McGonagall demands.

I break the stare-down and turn to the Transfiguration teacher. "Nothing, Professor."

 


	3. The Daily Grind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for the kudos! Hope you like this chapter

* * *

 

In the warmth of the Hufflepuff common room, I can almost forget about Dementors and Richardson and hassle. Re-meeting all my house-mates over the feast (along with diving into Hogwarts' amazing food) definitely helped my mood - that and finding Hermione.

Despite the incident on the train, my sister looked to be in surprisingly good spirits. She'd hurried over and caught my elbow as everyone flooded towards the doors once we'd finished the feast. "Diana!"

Honestly, the two of us aren't normally that big on hugs, but just then I was struck by such a tidal wave of relief that I threw my arms round her without a second thought.

"What's the matter?" She'd asked, patting my back.

"The Dementor on the train kind of worried me…" I mumbled into her shoulder.

We pulled out the hug. "Well, I can't blame you - it was really frightening."

"Were you OK?" I'd asked.

"Yes - well, sort of." She bit her lip. "Harry collapsed when it came into our compartment."

Suddenly, Richardson's opening line " _Not another fainter?"_ made a lot more sense. "Is he alright?"

"Well, he says so." She looked dubious for a moment, then her face cleared. "But I suppose he will be after a night's rest."

"You seem to be doing alright," I'd offered, noting the light smile on her mouth.

"Do I?" She'd said, slightly absentmindedly. "I've just had some... good news about my lessons, that's all."

I laughed. "Trust you to find comfort in lessons _,_ of all things." The corridors started to drain. "I guess I'd better go - see you tomorrow?"

"Of course!" She'd nodded. "Goodnight, Diana."

I'd waved one last time and hurried after the other Hufflepuffs towards our common room.

Now, the goosebumps that rise on my arms during every encounter I have with Richardson have long since smoothed down, curled into one of the old patched armchairs. I'm not going to mention what happened - either with Greg on the train, or Richardson in the Entrance Hall - to my dorm-mates, not going to kill the reunion excitement with news about seizures and miniature dictators.

Last year, we went almost straight up to the dorms after the feast, and I see the newly sorted first-years doing the same. But our year stick around - there's a definite buzz in the common room tonight. There are so many games of Gobstones and Exploding Snap that with every step you hazard being caught in the crossfire of flying cards and foul-smelling liquid, and the noise level is party-high.

My dorm-mates are all on fine form. I'm sharing the armchair and a bag of Liquorice Wands with Additri, while Juliette perches on the arm, knitting a sweatshirt at lightning speed. On the floor in front of us Ruby lounges, trimming the loose twigs on the brand-new Nimbus Two Thousand and One she's been thrusting into every corner of the common room like a proud parent. Our final roommate, Blossom, who I'm convinced is the most Hufflepuff human to exist since Helga herself, is beaming round at everyone. From across the room a brown-haired boy I know to be Richard Finch-Fletchley gives her a toothy smile and wave, and Blossom glows fuschia as she flutters her hand back in his direction.

"Ahh, your romance continues!" Additri grins at her.

"Oh, not this again." Blossom sighs, still blushing.

The obvious mutual crushes between the two of them were a favourite topic of conversation last year, and it looks like nothing's changed over summer. "It's not our fault Richard loves you," I tease.

"Actually, I was wondering what to put on the front of this jumper," Juliette says. "'Blossom Finch-Fletchley' it is!"

Blossom lightly flicks one of her knitting needles, which is probably the most vicious thing she's capable of, grinning. " _Honestly…"_

"So are you happy with how your Quidditch went over summer, Ruby?" I ask, deciding to have mercy on her.

Our Scottish friend looks up from her broom. "Oh yeah, it was quality! Did I mention how I destroyed Roderick in one-a-side?"

"You may have mentioned it." Juliette says.

"I'm _definitely_ trying out for the team this year." Ruby nods. "Any of you lot?"

"Don't ask me!" Additri shakes her head. "I don't much like heights. Or Quidditch, for that matter."

"Sorry," I shrug. "I'm not much cop either!"

Ruby shakes her head sadly. "And Blossom will be too busy with her wedding planning…"

Blossom misses the joke, staring as she is at Richard Finch-Fletchley, which only makes us laugh harder. I'm only jolted out the giggling fit by the sound of my name being called.

"Hey, Diana!"

I look over to see a pretty fifth-year girl with a mass of chocolate curls beckoning me with clear enthusiasm. I recognise her as Daniela Bregalia, a former member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team who I met last year. Like most of our close-knit house, we're friendly, but she's never sought me out personally before. Intrigued, I get to my feet and make my way over. "Hi! What's up? Did you have a good summer?"

"Great, thanks!"

My eyes fall on the boy beside her - even if I hadn't already had him introduced as Ruby's brother, the clear resemblance in their corn-coloured hair and snub noses would have tipped me off.

"What about you, Roderick?" I ask.

"Not bad!" He nods. "Mostly Quidditch practise, really. I played-"

"She can hear about your little sister outscoring you anytime." Daniela interrupts, flashing him a cheeky grin. "I have an important preposition to make."

He pokes her in the ribs in mock-outrage. "Oi!"

"What's this preposition, then?" I ask.

"I'm starting something that I think you might be interested in! With Rod's help, of course." She adds, nodding graciously to her friend.

"Ooh, what's that?"

"Well, you're interested in dragons, aren't you?"

I stifle a grin; this is pretty much common knowledge amongst my house by this point. "I am indeed!"

"I'm gonna start up a club about magical creatures in general, you know? It'll probably just be swapping facts and and stories and stuff at first, but if it picks up I might be allowed to actually bring some in!"

"That sounds brilliant!" I jump in, already excited. "What are you thinking of bringing?"

"Well, I don't think we're going to be able to get our hands on any dragons." Roderick laughs. "Sorry to disappoint!"

 _Already got one of those,_ I grin to myself. "Something a bit less fiery, maybe?"

"Well..." Daniela pauses. "We might be able to get a Niffler."

"I'm _sold."_ I tell them, thinking of the pictures I've seen. Nifflers are pretty much the most adorable things in existence (besides my Krispy, of course), and I'd fork over half the Galleons in my Gringotts vault for one of my own.

"Excellent!" Daniela beams. "I'm thinking of having the first meeting on Wednesday. I'll let you know about the time and everything later. Oh, and feel free to bring along a friend - or more, if you want. I'd like to get as many people on board as possible!"

"Sure, sounds great!" I'm about to ask more when my eyes snag on a small figure shuffling into the room, eyes on the floor. I'm struck by a sudden idea. "I'd better go," I say hurriedly to Daniela and Roderick. "But thanks again for inviting me!"

"No problem!" She calls, as I hurry over to Greg. His face still looks slightly pale and wan.

"Hey, how'd it go in the hospital wing?" I ask him. "Are you OK now?"

His shoulders twitch. "Madam Pomfrey thinks I'm fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah...just have to eat a lot of chocolate."

"That can be arranged!" I dig my last Chocolate Frog from the pocket of my robes and hand it over. "For you. And I have something that might cheer you up. Daniela and Roderick are starting a club about magical creatures and I'm definitely up for going… Want to come with me?"

As I expected, his face brightens instantly. "Yeah!"

Greg and I first bonded last year over a shared interest in dragons, and since he sometimes struggles with talking to people, the club seems like the perfect place for him to get to know some fellow creature-lovers.

"Great, Daniela's gonna let me know when the first meeting's on, and we can go together!"

He smiles, genuinely. "Sounds really good."

I walk over to my dorm-mates feeling, I think, justifiably smug at this success. By the time I've wound my way back to them, Blossom, Addtri, Ruby and Juliette are yawning and deciding on bed. Now the initial buzz of excitement is settling down, I'm inclined to agree. We trickle through to our round, cosy dorm, and I'm the first to dive dramatically into my four-poster, making the others giggle.

Within ten minutes, the lights are out and our dorm is filled with the sound of sleeping.

It's been a strange day, I think. Still, as I let the mattress swallow me into its springs, I know how glad I am to be back.

* * *

The next morning, I stand in front of the mirror and examine my reflection. Round brown eyes blink back at me from underneath heavy brows, then flicker upwards to check my hair. I've tried to twist it into a bun, but there are already stubborn tendrils springing free. Two weeks in the French sun have given my skin an untidy smattering of coffee-coloured freckles, but I kind of like the way they look. I straighten my yellow-striped tie and smile into the mirror. _Second year starts here._

"You still in there, Diana?" Ruby calls from outside the door.

With one last look, I emerge from the bathroom and join my dorm-mates. "I'm done!"

"You almost gave Blossom a run for her money there." Juliette says, probably recalling our copper-haired friend's twenty-minute long stint in the bathroom earlier on.

"Hey, I wasn't _that_ long!" She protests.

Ruby grins. "Primping for a certain Mr Finch-Fletchley?"

"Honestly, when will you lot let this go?" Blossom sighs.

"At your wedding." I tell her seriously.

"And we'd better be bridesmaids." Additri adds.

Blossom rolls her eyes, but she's clearly trying not to smile. "Come on, let's get breakfast."

The five of us make our way up to the Great Hall and settle down near the end of the Hufflepuff table.

"Defence first." I say, eyeing our new timetable as I spread marmalade on my toast.

"We'll have that Lupin guy Dumbledore mentioned last night," Juliette says. "Wonder what he'll be like?"  
"Whatever happens, he's gotta be an improvement on Lockhart," Ruby adds darkly. I think of last year's laughably egotistical 'Professor' and shudder slightly.

But when we arrive at the classroom, I get the feeling that Professor Lupin will be a whole lot more bearable. He's the way I remember from the introduction at the feast last night - slight, with greying hair and patched robes - giving us all a vague smile as we file into the classroom. Something large and relatively square sits on his desk, curiously concealed by a black cloak.

"Good morning, class," he says mildly. "If you'd all like to take a seat… Today, we're going to be looking at the Kappa."

He unveils the mysterious thing on his desk, revealing a tank of cloudy water and an odd, monkey-like creature with webbed hands and flaring gills. Several people gasp, intrigued.

"The Kappa is a water-dweller, as you can see. Normally, they reside in ponds or lakes. Note the webbed hands - ideal for speed when swimming, but putting them at a disadvantage when it comes to grip..." Professor Lupin says. "If you'd like to get out your quills and just take note of this…"

The lesson passes quickly - and, a first for Defence lessons - enjoyably. By the end, I have a scroll of notes and I actually think that the homework - summarising a chapter of our textbook - will be within my capabilities.

"That was good," Additri nods as we make our way into the corridor.

I give them a sideways grin. "And a _definite_ improvement on Lockhart."

Next up we have Herbology. We slip back into last year's rhythm as if the summer never happened, with Atticus, Chance, Greg and I occupying the equivalent table near the back of Greenhouse Two that we worked at last year in Greenhouse One. About ten minutes into the lesson, mine and Attie's light banter fizzles out as we both turn our attention to our pots, but the silence doesn't last for long.

"Hey, Atticus," Chance says, his voice oddly low. "I have… _mission_ … updates."

Attie clears his throat but doesn't look up from his work. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Chance says through gritted teeth. "We need to talk later so I can tell you the _new plan."_

"Sure."

He leans further across the table. "There are some… _danger issues."_

"What's this?" I ask him, attempting friendliness.

Chance eyes me appraisingly. "Confidential. Sorry." He says.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. You _really_ mutter about things you want kept quiet at the Herbology desk, right? I manage to contain myself to a shrug, and turn back to my plant pots. I get the feeling that he's disappointed I haven't pressed more, but I'm not about to plead for information purely to satisfy his ego.

As if fate has personally decided it's 'Bully Diana Granger' day, the door to the greenhouses opens and the figure who steps in is adorned with a distinctively green and silver tie. Thankfully, though, the tie does not belong to Richardson or one of his posse - my immediate fear - but to someone else I realise I recognise.

Finella Leviathan is Suzette's dorm mate - and a hard one to miss at that. She's a Metamorphmagus - the only one in our year group - and if I hadn't been told that on my fourth week, her impressive cloud of bright orange hair - the sort tinged with a shade of red at the ends no-one could naturally be born with (at least as far as my Muggle experiences have told me) - braided intricately at the back, only to fall into a loose series of firework-bright curls, gives it away. There's always a distinct twinkle to her eyes - regardless if they were their natural pale hazel colour or something far more exotic; occasionally hidden by the fringe that periodically appeared (like today) - and that practically _glows_ today as she approaches Professor Sprout, letter clutched tightly in her right hand.

"A letter from Professor Maddox for you." She announces as she comes to a stand still at the front of the classroom, her Northern accent - far stronger than my own, and distinctively Yorkshire - reverberating off the glass.

"Many thanks," Professor Sprout says, taking the note and leafing through it. Across the table, Chance has taken a minute of muttering to glare directly at Finella's green tie. I stifle a grin and turn back to my work.

At the end of the lesson, Greg rushes off to fetch something from his dorm, but I hang around to wait for Atticus. "You coming?" He asks Chance, who's taking quite a while over the clasp on his rucksack.

Chance gives another of those furtive glances. "I've got to go - more _important plans -_ talk to you later?"

Atticus nods. "Yeah, hope it goes well."

Inwardly, I breathe a sigh of relief. Atticus and I wind our way out the greenhouse and towards the school. Even though I know I could be opening a giant can of worms, my curiosity gets the better of me. "One question." I say.

Atticus looks to me. "Yep?"

"Uh… what was Chance just on about?"

"Oh - well," Atticus shifts, slightly awkwardly. "It's kind of a long story. Ever heard of _The Song that Soothed the Sphinx?"_

I shrug, totally blank.

"I guessed not. It's an old wizarding story - a fairytale, I guess you could say."

"Yeah?" I'd never considered that wizards would have their own fairy stories, but it stands to reason, I guess. A pumpkin transforming into a carriage is more the stuff of the N.E.W.T Transfiguration syllabus than wondrous, unimaginable magic. "What happens, then?"

"Well, it's all pretty standard fairytale stuff. Basically, in a mysterious land, long, long ago, there was a kingdom under the rule of an evil wizard, who controlled an army of magical creatures through Dark magic. He kidnaps the kingdom's princess, the only one with magic to rival his, and locks her in a tower guarded by a dragon under his spell. So, all in all, it's not looking too good.

"But then, a prophecy's unveiled that someone can defeat him and return the kingdom to its former glory - _evil cowers before a boy of great courage, one with the heart of a lion,_ something along those lines. And then we meet a humble farm boy."

"I think I can see where this is going." I grin, readjusting my bag as I walk.

"How'd you guess?" Attie laughs. "Yep, he's the chosen one, but he can't think how to defeat the wizard. Eventually, he has to travel to meet this very old, very wise warlock who's crafted a magic flute, which commands every creature; there's a song for each one."

"Let me guess - he uses the flute to battle the evil wizard, vanquishes the villain and saves the princess?"

"Well, she actually tames the dragon with an ancient royal talisman and gets out herself." He shrugs. "But other than that, pretty much! In the end, the villain gets eaten by his own Sphinx. Great story." He pauses. "But anyway… Chance has this theory that the prophecy is actually real."

"Huh?" The penny drops. "He thinks it... applies to him, or something?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

I frown. "But what's the evil he's trying to thwart?"

"Uh… Sirius Black."

My jaw drops. "He thinks he can defeat _Sirius Black?"_

"Well." Attie shrugs. "Maybe. Sort of. He thinks that he'll be the one to find him, and bring him to justice, and he has all these schemes for how he's gonna go about it." He looks at me suddenly. "But don't mention this to anyone, will you? I mean, it's not like he's actually going to get anywhere with this."

"I won't." I promise.

"And to be fair, you can't blame him for wanting to find Black. We all grew up hearing about him...what he did…" He tails off. "Everyone wants to be a hero."

I nod. "I get it."

Before either of us can say anymore, the 'Chosen One' himself comes barrelling towards us from the direction of the greenhouses. "Hey!" Chance shouts.

"Hey!" Attie greets his friend. "How're things going?"

"Everything is exactly according to plan." Chance says, with another darkly significant look. He catches my eye, as if noticing I'm there for the first time. "Anyway... what are you two talking about?"

"Oh, not much." Atticus says lightly, as I bite my tongue and firmly avoid his eyes. "Nothing at all."


	4. The Professor and the Planets

After we've been released from our final lesson of the afternoon - Transfiguration - I walk down to the Great Lake to meet Suzette for our promised first swim back. The air is starting to cool, a light breeze rippling through my just-escaped hair, and my pace quickens automatically as I near the lake. I'm almost at its edge when the sound of Hermione's voice slows me to a stop.

"Diana!" I turn to see her hurrying towards me, bushy brown mane bouncing behind her. "I saw you coming this way. How was your first day?"

"Pretty good!" I call, going to meet her halfway. "What about yours?"

Up close, she looks a little flustered. "Well, it was- _interesting,_ to say the least."

"Why's that?"

"Well, our Divination teacher predicted Harry's imminent death…"

"What?!"

Hermione waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, I don't believe a word she says. But the others are rather unnerved. And then we had Hagrid's first Care of Magical Creatures lesson…"

I relax. "Oh, great! How'd it go?"

"It could have been better." She says, her voice a little grim. "Malfoy got attacked by a Hippogriff… He's alright, I think, but in the hospital wing."

"What happened?"

"Oh, he insulted it. Hagrid _did_ tell us not to, but he wasn't listening… it really doesn't look too great for his first lesson."

"Malfoy should've kept his mouth shut," I say. I have zero sympathy for him, especially after all the stuff I know he's said to my sister about her blood status - not to mention Harry and his lost parents. "Anyway, I've got to head off - I promised Suzette that we'd go swimming in the lake."

"You'll get in time for homework, though, won't you?" Hermione says, momentarily stern.

"I most solemnly promise I will," I vow, trying my hardest not to laugh. "See you soon?"

She nods eagerly. "Enjoy your swim!"

I wave and continue downwards. The second I reach the Great Lake, I collapse on the bank, shed my shoes and socks and skim my feet over its smooth surface. I've missed the lake like a friend, I realise. It's good to be reunited.

"Hey!" Says a voice I immediately recognise.

I drag my feet from the water and stand up. "Suz!"

"What are you grinning at?" Suzette asks, looking at my face.

"Hermione just told me about her first Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Apparently Malfoy tangled with a Hippogriff."  
Suzette rolls her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips. "Let me guess… his father will hear about this?"

"Probably already has." I giggle. "It was his own fault, though, he insulted it. That's like the cardinal rule of not getting attacked by a Hippogriff."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever bump into one." Suzette says.

"You might!" I say, realising that this is the perfect opportunity to tell her about the club Daniela and Roderick told me about last night.

She frowns in confusion. "And why's that?"

"Well, these people from my house are starting up a club about magical creatures… you know, learning about them and all that, and they might be bringing some in eventually. Up for it?"

Suzette wrinkles her nose. "Sounds a bit too much like lessons, and I have more than enough of those."

"Aw, come on." I wheedle. "You might get to cuddle a Niffler!"

She tilts her head."Tell you what - I'll come for the Niffler meeting."

"You drive a hard bargain." I laugh. "But alright." My gaze drifts back down to the softly swirling water, cool and smooth and inviting. "Anyway, feel like a swim?"

* * *

Later that evening, all us second-year Hufflepuffs are getting ready to head for Astronomy. I'm pretty tired after our first day back and there are a few things I'd rather do now than go and squint at the stars for an hour - collapse into bed, for example. Still, even if the technicalities of the subject always go right over my head, the lessons aren't too bad. Most of all, I'm grateful that I know we don't have it with the Slytherins; as much as I'd like another lesson with Suzette besides our solitary Charms slot, I'm so not ready to be trapped at close quarters with Richardson for the first time since last night. Thankfully, I haven't seen him or his minions at all today and the absence couldn't have been more welcome.

On the way to the Astronomy Tower, I hang back from the rest of my dorm-mates to talk to Greg. I'm heavily conscious that it's still barely been twenty-four hours since the Dementor incident, but he seems more or less OK as we walk. A little quiet, but that's really nothing new. When we reach the classroom, there's a small crowd of students with scarlet-striped ties already hovering by the door: Astronomy with the Gryffindors, then. On the plus side, this means I get another lesson with Attie; the downside is extra mandatory exposure to Chance. Having said that, I guess his new 'secret mission' might be kind of entertaining to sit back and soak up.

"Think we can go in?" Additri asks, as Greg and I catch up to the rest of the class. I note the door to the classroom, slightly ajar.

Juliette peers inside for a moment then re-emerges with widened eyes. "New teacher!" She announces.

I blink. "Really?"

Last year, Astronomy was taught by Professor Sinistra, a soft-spoken witch who more or less floated around the Astronomy Tower talking about planetary cycles, and although Professor Dumbledore mentioned replacement Defence and Care of Magical Creatures at feast, nothing was said about Astronomy. Everyone pauses by the door, looking slightly wrong-footed.

"You can come in!" Calls a male voice from inside. With an air of trepidation, we file into the classroom and look towards the teacher's desk.

The man stood behind it isn't quite what I was expecting. Then again, we've barely been given any time to predict _anything_ , so I'm not too sure what my imagination might have conjured up.

He's tall and slender for the most part, his shoulders a little disjointedly broad for someone so slight, but the way he positions himself overrides any inkling of awkward gait. His cloud of ruddy brown hair - the light tinges of red slightly clearer under the warm lighting - brings a paleness to his smooth skin, which is further exemplified by the curling mustache, carefully trimmed, that rests above his top lip. For a moment it makes me assume he's a little older than I first perceived, but the youthful edge to his strong features - emphasised by the squareness of his jawline, sharp curve of his mouth, and the elegant sloping of his nose - reveals he's probably not that far into his thirties. His eyes are a little darker than his hair, reminiscent of the way my own bushy chestnut curtain (after my topknot collapsed earlier, I took up Juliette's kind offer to braid part of it behind my head - it looks lovely, and I'm trying to ignore the inevitable hardship of taming it tomorrow) pales next to the deep brown of my eyes. His glow a rich shade of coffee, and even from a distance I can see they're flecked with hints of gold.

His robes are complementary, predominately dark colours, moody ivies and deep emeralds, threaded with a lighter yellow-gold trim. I feel my face flush a little. The discussion I remember vaguely overhearing of the older Hufflepuff students earlier in the common room - one being Gwaine's friend, Jude Nicholson - about the new perks of Astronomy is beginning to make sense.

"Good evening, class. My name is Professor Maddox." The teacher announces into the silence. No one says anything; a few of the girls look a little starstruck. "Would you all take a seat?"

For a moment, everyone pauses, then there's a flurry of movement. I settle at a desk near the back, beckoning for Greg to sit beside me - he does, with visible relief. Atticus shoots us a grin and a wave as he walks past, then he and Chance slide into the seats behind us. As I swing my bag onto my knees and start to unpack my things, my attention falls back to the front of the class.

"I know you were probably expecting Professor Sinistra…" The new professor begins. "It's been decided that the two of us will switch our teaching assignments as part of an exchange program. She's taken my position at a school in Uganda, and I'll be teaching you. It was a last-minute policy."

"Professor Dumbledore didn't mention it yesterday night." Says one of the Gryffindor boys, looking slightly dubious.

"It was a _very_ last minute policy. Anyway," Professor Maddox says swiftly, as if that's all to be said on the matter. He nods suddenly to the textbooks lying on everyone's desks. "You can put those away. We won't be needing them today."

Subtle but audible excitement ripples over the class - no textbooks is always a telltale sign of an interesting lesson. I push mine back into my bag with a quiet sigh of relief - a night off star charts and diagrams is always nice for me, especially when my mind is this tired.

"Do we need telescopes instead?" Asks Richard Finch-Fletchley eagerly.

Professor Maddox shakes his head, walking around to the front of the teacher's desk. "It's too cloudy to see anything much tonight."

"So why're we here?" Chance blares from behind me. "What's the point in _having_ Astronomy if we can't even see the sky?"

The teacher pauses for a moment, looking over him with a distinctly appraising eye. "Just because you can't see the sky, it doesn't mean it ceases to exist."

Then, without warning, he waves his wand and the legions of candles and lanterns lighting the room flicker out. We're flooded with darkness. I blink, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the sudden pitch, and think drily once again that it's a good thing this isn't a class I'm sharing with Richardson.

And then light flares in the corner - just a pinprick at first, then swelling, morphing into something bigger. Swathes of silver dance in the corner of the room, streaked with pink and electric blue, growing ever-faster and spilling over our heads. The breath catches in my throat as I catch the sharp twinkle of what look like diamonds. The strange new light fills the entire classroom, and it is only then that I realise we're looking at the night sky - not just looking at it, we're _inside_ it. My skin tingles; I've never seen magic quite like this. Never seen magic quite this beautiful.

The illusion hangs in midair, illuminating the room and the faces of my classmates with a hazy, otherworldly light. Almost everyone looks impressed, a few close to awed - Greg gapes, and across the aisle from us, Blossom's eyes shine, strips of the galaxy reflected back in her pupils.

"I think," Professor Maddox begins, walking between the desks with his wand held aloft. "It is important that you know what you're looking for, when you're looking through your telescopes. And there's only so much you can come to know from a textbook."

I stifle a grin; Hermione, no doubt, would be aghast at that. Still, I have to admit it really would be hard to capture the grandeur of the practical magic around me between the pages of a book.

"Now, if you look to Mercury-" Professor Maddox raises one hand, almost carelessly, and a silver-grey sphere looms large before us all. "One of only five planets visible without a telescope, and among the most difficult of those to spot because it never strays far from the Sun's vicinity in our sky."

He lifts his hand again, and a yellow-tinted planet takes centre stage. "Venus, on the other hand…"

"This is a waste of time." Chance audibly hisses to Atticus. "I have so much _more important stuff_ to be doing-"

"You seem very eager to escape my lesson," Professor Maddox cuts over him smoothly. "Care to explain the nature of this 'more important stuff' you have to do so very urgently?"

Chance looks at him for a second, clearly toying with whether or not to spill his big plan. Out the corner of my eye, I spot Atticus give him an infinitesimal shake of the head. The rest of the class looks on, both curious and frustrated in equal parts. "It's private." He finally mumbles, sulkily.

The professor shrugs. "Alright. Keep it that way, then, and stop interrupting."

Chance opens his mouth then shuts it again, slumping back in his seat with scowl on his face.

"As I was saying," Professor Maddox begins again. "If you'd all like to turn your attention towards Venus…"

The lesson continues. Each planet slides before our eyes, close enough to touch, it seems; the hour trickles away, and so does my tiredness. When the candles flare back on, I blink in the sudden light and come back down to earth with a bump.

"And I think we'll leave it there." Professor Maddox says, siphoning the final shreds of galactic light back into his wand. "For next week, please - Chapter One of your textbook, read through and take notes on the planets of our solar system."

With that, the class is dismissed, and everyone starts spilling towards the door. Greg dashes off, he says to the library, and with Attie deep in conversation with Chance I rejoin the rest of the Hufflepuffs. A few of the Gryffindor girls explode into whispers and giggles as soon as they're out the classroom; from the number of pink-tinged cheeks I think I can guess their subject.

Ruby looks over at them and grins. "I have a feeling that Astronomy might become a few people's new favourite lesson."

"Not that Chance guy, though, clearly." Juliette says. "Wonder what his problem is? You know him, don't you, Diana?"

"Barely." I say quickly. My promise to Atticus still stands; I'm not going to start spilling the details of his secret mission to my housemates. "Anyway, what did you lot think of that lesson?"

"It was great!" Blossom says enthusiastically.

"D'you think it's kind of strange that he's just sort of replaced Professor Sinistra out of nowhere?" I ponder. Impressed as I am, Professor Maddox's sudden appearance does seem a bit odd.

"A little, maybe…" Additri shrugs. "But I'm just happy he's good at teaching."

"Yeah, we've definitely had enough terrible professors for a while - after Lockhart." Ruby says pointedly.

"Honestly, a year on, and you're still ripping on Lockhart, Rubes." Juliette - a former fan - teases. "When will you give the poor man a break?"

"When he's paid for the crime that was his teaching last year." Ruby says defiantly. She turns to the rest of us and winks. "So another ten years, at least."

 


	5. The Club

For the most part, my first few days back at Hogwarts are good. The only difficult moments are Potions (always tricky), where Professor Snape tells me that my Swelling Solution is the worst he's encountered in a decade, prompting an infuriating smirk from Carys Newhelm, a Ravenclaw girl with an inexplicable admiration for Spencer Richardson (and therefore an inevitable grudge against me). From the way she'd simpered from above her own cauldron you'd think she'd won a sack of Galleons. I still haven't exchanged words with Richardson himself; we passed in the corridor yesterday, him surrounded by the ever-present sycophants. He said nothing, just gave me a twisted smile, but I didn't hang around to see if there was anything else in store, just threw him the darkest scowl I could muster and carried on walking.

I'm still caught in this unpleasant memory as I lounge in the common room on Wednesday afternoon, staring my Transfiguration textbook and absentmindedly chewing on my thumbnail.

"Diana?"

I look up, shake all thoughts of Richardson from my head, to find a familiar fifth-year face smiling down at me. "Hi, Daniela...what's up?"

"You know the club I mentioned?" She asks. "The magical creature thing?"

I nod eagerly, my bad mood seeping away. "Oh yeah!"

"Well, it's all sorted! First meeting's tonight, seven o'clock in Professor Flitwick's classroom."

"Great, I'll be there! Oh - by the way, my friend Greg might be coming." I search for Greg in the sea of students and find him sitting near the edge of the room, reading. "That's cool, right?"

Daniela blinks at Greg as if noticing him for the first time. "Of course!" She says. "The more the merrier. Right… I'd better go and get the word out. See you tonight!"

"See you!" I get to my feet and weave my way over to Greg and fill him in. He seems excited by my news, his face breaking into a smile that usually only surfaces when I mention dragons - I'm pretty sure my scheme to bring him out of his shell is going to be successful.

At ten to seven, the two of us make our way down to the classroom we both know well from Charms lessons.

"This is it, isn't it?" Greg checks.

The door is ajar, and I can just hear Daniela's voice drifting out from inside. "Think so!" Emboldened, I push open the door fully, Greg scurrying behind me.

"Hey - glad you found it OK!" Daniela greets us, stopping mid-stream. "Come in, sit down!"

There's already a handful of people inside, lounging against the desks, chatting. It's a pretty small group; Daniela and Roderick, two girls who I don't recognise, Greg and I, and Javier Ramos.

"This is Pippa and Hazelle, you two," Roderick says, motioning to the two girls in turn, who both smile at us. Pippa has olive skin and a dark plait, Hazelle smooth sunny-blonde hair brushing her shoulders - but the thing that strikes me most is that the former has a Gryffindor tie, while the latter's is striped with green and silver. I smile, reminded a little of me and Suzette. "They're fifth-years, like us." Roderick continues, then gestures to us. "And this is Diana and Greg."

After another quick round of 'hi's, Daniela claps her hands together. "So, I think that's everyone who said they were coming - shall we get started?" She proposes. "I basically wanted to start this up because I've always been passionate about magical creatures - learning about them, looking after them... and making sure they're treated with respect, valued by wizarding society."

There's a chorus of assent at that; I find myself nodding. My own experience with Krispy has made me pretty fiery about anyone who'd mistreat a creature, and I was an animal lover even before I found out about the wizarding world in any case.

"But I thought we'd start this nice and light, tonight," Daniela says. "Get to know each other - maybe just swap some good magical creature stories?"

"Well, I have a few." Javier pipes up. "Well - not from me so much. But my grandfather told me a lot from when he was researching for his books... he used to write a lot on magical creatures."

My stomach clenches a little. I still haven't mentioned Thaddeus' death at all to his grandson - I make a mental note to give him my condolences at the end of the meeting. I know that his family connection to the famous author isn't common knowledge among Hogwarts' students, so I'm not going to blurt anything out now.

"So, what'd he tell you?" Roderick asks, bringing my attention back to the here and now.  
"Oh, loads… but there was one incident when he first started out as a magizoologist that became one of his staple bedtime stories." A faintly nostalgic expression crosses his face. "He was travelling through Asia on his first research project for the Ministry, looking for an Occamy."

It takes me a second to place the name, but pretty I'm sure I've come across the Occamy before somewhere; then a plumed, two-legged serpentine creature, electric blue, flashes in my mind.

"Did he find one?" I ask excitedly.

"Well... not quite." Javier shrugs. "It was more like one found him."

There's a ripple of laughter, and Javier grins, his teeth flashing white against light-brown skin.

"He was in India, hacking through a forest. But he was still pretty inexperienced, so he got a bit...careless?"

"Oh dear…" Daniela shakes her head.

"They're very territorial, Occamies, especially around their eggs. My grandad hadn't realised that he'd just barged into a nest until he heard something _angrily_ rearing up behind him. Which obviously meant he had to run - and run very, very fast."

"Was he alright?!" Pippa asks, eyes wide.

"Oh, yeah!" Javier nods. "He got chased through the forest for a bit, but then one of the locals spotted him and tossed the Occamy some food to distract it. And then he even got some help on his research, since they all knew way more about the Occamy than he did at that point - like not trampling through their nests, for starters."

Everyone laughs. "We'll all keep that in mind!" Daniela giggles. "Any other tales, you lot?"

"Well, we have a pretty good one, don't we, Hazelle?" Pippa asks, looking to her friend.

The Slytherin tilts her head. "You thinking of Mr Gaines and the crup?"

"Who's Mr Gaines?" Roderick asks.

"And- er… what's a crup?" Greg chips in, nervously. Still, I'm pretty encouraged (not to mention a little surprised) that he's talking.

Pippa gives him a friendly smile. "A lot like a Jack Russell, but with a forked tail."

"Anyway, there's this farm near where we grew up," Hazelle begins. "Their crup had puppies, a litter of four."

"We were about ten, I think? So obviously we were both desperate for one of them, but both our parents said no."

"' _Too much money…too much work… if the Muggles from number 19 see they'll think we've butchered a Jack Russell…'_ " Hazelle recalls. "To cut a long story short, they were pretty dead-set against the idea."

"So we were kind of resigned to the fact that we weren't allowed." Pippa says. "Until Mr Gaines bought one."

"To answer your earlier question," Hazelle gives a nod to Roderick. "Mr Gaines was another of our neighbours. Well - kind of. He owned this massive house a bit away from our village, but we always hated him. He used to curse cats that came onto his land so their claws fell out."

There are a few gasps; I feel my own jaw clenching in anger.

"So when we heard that he'd bought a pup, we hatched 'The Plan.'"

"Oh, I already like 'The Plan'," Daniela chips in.

"We decided to sneak up to his house - and if we saw him mistreating the crup, we'd, um, _rescue_ it." Pippa says, a little sheepishly. "Well, we decided that it wasn't really stealing if we had a good reason."

Hazelle nods. "So we went up to his house one night under my Invisibility Cloak-"

"You have an _Invisibility Cloak?"_ Javier cuts in, looking gobsmacked.

Pippa rolls her eyes. "She has an old cloak she tried to enchant when she was nine."

"I didn't just try, I succeeded." Hazelle says stubbornly. "OK, it's bit patchy, but-"

"So, we went up to this house under a non-invisible cloak…" Pippa interrupts, grinning at her friend pointedly. "And crept up to the window, looked inside-" Her face suddenly turns stony, serious. "And he was pointing his wand at this pup, like he was about to curse it. I think it had torn up his carpet or something… he was yelling."

Hazelle nods. "I said we needed to distract him - get his attention away from the crup immediately, before he did any damage."

"So I took action." Pippa says decidedly, donning the face of a fearsome warrior.

"She threw a rock through his window."

"Well, we were way too young for any real magic - sometimes you've got to rely on a rock." Pippa says, to a chorus of laughs.

"So, what happened?" Roderick asks.

"Well, we ran round the back as he came to investigate the smashed window out front. The crup came running to us as soon as we opened the door so we took it and never went back."

"By some miracle, we got away with it, as well. Gaines had search parties out for ages, but he never thought to check right under his nose."

"The crup - Frank - he lives with my mum and dad now." Pippa says.

"Even though you weren't allowed one?" Daniela asks.

"My mum didn't like crups, but she _really_ didn't like Gaines." Pippa says. "I'm happy to report that she's changed her mind on the first of those. Frank sleeps on their bed and everything!"

I picture a little crup, curled contentedly in a nest of blankets, and smile to myself.

"Aww….well, I'm a lot less heroic than you two." Daniela laughs.

"Why, what story were you thinking of?" Roderick asks.

She surveys the group. "Do you guys know what a Lethifold is?"

I shrug, totally blank this time; in fairness, I'm still only part-way through my latest Thaddeus Lightclaw book.

"It's a very dangerous creature that closely resembles a cloak… they can swallow you whole."

"That sounds like a recipe for disaster." Javier comments.

"You're not wrong!" She says ruefully.

"Have you run into one?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Not me - my best friend, Hadrian. He lives in Italy."

Maybe I'm imagining it, but I'm sure the smile on Roderick's face dampens a little when he hears that. I frown, but a second later he looks as bright as ever.

"Anyway," Daniela says, pulling my attention back to her story. "Hadrian was out camping a bit ago, in a forest in Tuscany, with a couple of mates. He was too cheap to get a decent tent, so they opted for a Muggle one. They pitched the tent at night... after maybe one too many Butterbeers."

There's a ripple of laughter, a couple of groans.

"Let's just say that no matter how good a wizard you are, doesn't mean you'll be any good at all at pitching Muggle tents. The thing collapsed on them at three in the morning."

I laugh; one benefit of my non-magical upbringing is that I can find my way around the formidable challenge that is tent pegs.

"So, where does the Lethifold come in?" Greg asks, sounding almost confident. I swallow a beam.

"Well, they tried to pitch it again - in the dark, half-asleep and a little hungover. And Hadrian saw what he thought was another part of the tent lying a few feet away…"

"Oh, _no._ " Hazelle shakes her head.

"So he yells, 'I've found the roof, guys!' and goes to pick it up - and then it moves, and he realises, ' _Oh dear, I've just mistaken a highly dangerous Dark creature with a taste for human flesh for a piece of camping equipment.'"_

"Was he OK?" Roderick asks, frowning a little.

"Oh, yeah," she nods fervently. "He managed to cast a Patronus, scared it away. Hadrian's amazing at the Patronus Charm. Still, he's not exactly in a hurry to go camping again."

Everyone laughs, including Greg; this is pretty much the most relaxed I've ever seen him - in a group of people, anyway. Still, I'm hoping no one calls on him directly - I think that might be a step too far.

As if she's read my mind, Daniela's eyes slide over Greg and land on me. "What about you, Diana? Got any stories?"

_Yes,_ I think - _I have got a story._

I sit for a moment, toying with the idea. Am I absolutely crazy? Probably - but it's just too good a tale to pass up.

"Well," I say. "I know- someone, who did something _very_ out-there."

I stop for a second. Everyone's looking at me, engrossed. I'm committed.

"My cousin." I decide. "In… America. She goes to the school over there… you know the one, uhh...?"

"Ilvermorny?" Roderick suggests.

"Yes!" I pounce on his answer, relieved. "She goes to Ilvermorny. Well, a couple of years ago, she decided that she wanted a pet."

I settle back, warming to my story. "But my cousin isn't one to settle. No to owl, no to cat, no to rat… what she really, really wanted was…. a dragon."

A few people burst out laughing, while others gasp.

"And you might be thinking, you know, 'Aren't dragons huge and fire-breathing and illegal and everything?' The answer being, of course, yes - but none of it stopped her."

Pippa leans forward incredulously. "She didn't?"

"She did. She has this friend who's super rich - and, um, equally crazy - and they bought a dragon egg on the black market and hid it in the woods near their school."

"No _way."  
_

"Indeed!"

"What'd she call it?"

I hesitate for just a moment. "Krispy." I say, taking the plunge. "They called him Krispy."

"Awww…"

Greg's eyes are the size of saucers - he looks excited, animated. He's never heard this story before - nor the unedited version. "Did they get caught?" He asks.

"No, surprisingly," I say. "There were a couple of close calls, though."

"So the dragon obsession is rife in your whole family, then, Diana?" Roderick laughs.

"I guess you could say so!"

"But your cousin just took it one step further." Daniela adds.

I nod. "She did."

There's a moment of silence, everyone digesting this. I wonder, fleetingly, if talking about Krispy - even in this highly edited way - was a good idea, but I can't see how any harm could come of it. No one seemed to have a problem believing in my 'cousin', at any rate.

Roderick checks his watch. "Hey, I think that's all we have time for tonight."

There's a scatter of disappointed sighs as people start getting to their feet.

"So...this was a success, I gather?" He checks, grinning at this collective reaction.

"Of course!"

"That's what I was hoping for." Daniela nods approvingly. "Feel like meeting again, same time next week? And bring your friends!"

There's a mass of goodbyes, then everyone starts drifting towards the door. I thank Daniela for inviting me, tell Pippa and Hazelle it was great to meet them, and I'm about to leave when a sudden remembrance stops me in my tracks.

"Uhh - shall we go back to the common room?" Greg asks, looking a little confused at my halt.

"You go ahead - there's just one thing I need to do."

He hovers for a moment, uncertain.

"I'll be five minutes," I promise, and he finally nods and slips outside.

I take a deep breathe, stele myself; I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing, but I think I have to say _something._

"Hey - Javier?" I say, approaching my fellow Hufflepuff, himself not far from the door.

He stops, turns around. "What's up, Diana?"

"I just wanted to say - I'm so sorry to hear the news about your grandad."

He smiles, but sadness hovers over every feature of his face even as he does. "Thanks."

I search for the right thing to say, the way to put everything I feel into words. "I just got two more of his books - they're amazing."

_What was that, Granger?_ I think, kicking myself. _Why're you giving a book review?_

"Anyway," I say quickly. "I'm just really sorry. And I hope you're all doing OK - as OK as you can be."

He looks at me for a long moment, gives another of those same sad smiles. "Well, thanks, Diana." His face brightens a little. "What your cousin did was great, by the way. My grandad would've loved to hear that… it's exactly the sort of thing he'd have done."

That makes me smile; as I bid Javier goodnight and go to rejoin Greg outside, my thoughts are clinging to Krispy, my dragon, the best crazy risk I ever took. I've found there's something about dragons that can lighten even the darkest circumstances, and it looks like I've found a bunch of other people who feel the same.


	6. A Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In spite of the seeming calm...Diana begins to realise trouble is on the horizon once more.

The days go on, picking up speed like a snowball rolling down a hill. I settle into the groove of life at Hogwarts like I’ve never been away. 

Pretty much everyone’s continually impressed by Professor Maddox; he rolls out a string of brilliant Astronomy lessons that have me genuinely fascinated by the solar system (something my old Physics teacher would’ve marvelled at). It's not just his teaching that's got people talking, either - more than a handful of girls seem to spend rather a lot of time before Astronomy lessons curling their hair round their wands and debating the most flattering way to tie our black school cloaks. The only one who has anything negative to say about the new Astronomy teacher is Chance Binkins (“There’s something about him I just don’t trust… mark my words, all of you…”), but nobody pays much attention to him. Even Atticus is fraying, letting his eyes wander whenever his friend goes off on yet another rant. 

Daniela and Roderick’s club goes on every week, slowly but steadily picking up new members. Quickly the hours spent in Professor Flitwick’s classroom each Wednesday become some of my favourite in the entire week. Aside from my dragon-centric conversations with Greg and the mutual excitement Suzette and I shared over Krispy, I’ve never really been surrounded by people who get hyped up by magical creatures the way I do. After a couple more ice-breaker sessions of swapping stories, things take a more educational turn (much to Hermione’s approval). I even bring in my Thaddeus Lightclaw books. We study the Bundimun, a fungus-like house-dweller, the Erkling, an elfish creature from Germany’s Black Forest, and the Selma, a huge, carnivorous serpent that lurks in Norway’s lakes. I swear I'm learning more than I did in the entirety of Defence Against the Dark Arts last year. Best of all, Greg’s coming out his shell every week. He truly seems to be over the Dementor ambush on the train - probably helped by the fact that we haven’t seen a wisp of them since, given none of us have had reason to leave the school gates.

The only seeds of worry in the back of my mind surround Sirius Black, who’s still at large despite every Ministry effort – and, a little closer to home, Spencer Richardson. This time last year I already had a heap of run-ins with him, and his silence is making me more uneasy than if he burst into a corridor and hexed me upfront. 

Still, I reason, walking down to the Potions dungeon with my roomates, if Richardson’s trying to gather intel on me this year, he’s going to come up empty-handed. I'm not sneaking out of the castle or buying highly illegal pets from the black market. Aside from frantically copying Blossom’s Potions homework last night (and no one who’s attempted Snape’s legendarily difficult essays could blame me for that), I have a clean record when it comes to rule-breaking.

Having said all that, I can’t say I’m sorry that we’re not taking this lesson with the Slytherins - even if that is just about the only good thing I can say about it. I swallow a grimace as we enter the lowlit, icy classroom and settle down behind our cauldrons in silence.

Professor Snape rises from his desk and closes the door crisply, muffling any sounds of chatter and movement from the corridors outside. 

“Today,” he begins with an especially menacing glare, “You will be attempting the Sleeping Draught. It is more advanced than anything covered in your first year, though manageable... for those with some modicum of ability in Potions. Instructions are on page 12 of your textbooks. Begin.”

There’s a flurry of pages flipping and the clinking of twenty students’ worth of glass vials as everyone sets up. Let's just say that Potions doesn't exactly come to me naturally. I tend to screw up even the simpler concoctions - but hey, maybe today will be the beginning of a brand new era of success? 

It takes exactly until I’ve broken my first bottle for that dream to crash and burn. Still, my Potion seems salvageable, if a little too runny. I stir feverishly in the hopes it’ll thicken up, but it doesn’t look like I’m having too much luck. 

Still, it seems like Greg’s getting it even worse. Over on the next table (Snape always makes us sit according to his seating plans), I watch his face pale in terror as the professor glides up to his cauldron and fixes him with a withering smirk. “A rather pathetic attempt here, Onyssen.” He ladles up some of Greg’s Potion and drops it back with disdain. “Even by your standards.” He looks up and addresses the rest of the class. “For those of you with Potions worth presenting, bottle up a sample and leave them on my desk. Homework - an essay detailing the uses of the Sleeping Draught. Move.”

As I pour my Potion into a vial, I can’t help but notice that Greg’s face has flushed crimson. I throw him a sympathetic smile, but I don’t think he notices, staring resolutely at the tabletop. I pick up my vial and move off from my own desk, still watching my friend.

Unfortunately, I snap my attention back a second too late, just in time to feel myself overbalance and topple straight into Ravenclaw’s Carys Newhelm. The hand clutched around my vial tips as I go to steady myself against a desk, and a stream of my mediocre Potion slops over both of us.

“Sorry!” I exclaim, digging a tissue out my robes and offering it to her. “Really sorry, I wasn’t looking-”

“Well, clearly not!” She snaps, snatching the tissue and dabbing at her uniform, to little benefit. She gives a pronounced sigh and glares at me above her glasses. “You know, I’d have thought you could manage  _ walking,  _ even if you clearly can’t handle making Potions.”

My face floods with heat, but before I can say anything - or just sink into the floor, which seems like the most appealing option right now - someone else speaks up.

“At least  _ she _ doesn’t spend her time knocking books off desks because she’s too busy staring at  _ Spencer Richardson _ .”

Carys whirls round - it isn’t particularly strong, as she’s so wispy, with the sort of frame a strong gust of wind could easily send flying - eyes narrowed dangerously behind her glasses, but she freezes when she notices who’s dared to talk down to her.

Hailey Stormhaven - one of the pure-blood Ravenclaws - is stood just to the left of our desk. Like Suzette, she’s an intimidating embodiment of unfair physical beauty - not particularly tall, but slender figured, with an enviable complexion (what with the smooth and acne-free state of her pale skin), violet-flecked navy blue eyes and an oval face with soft cheeks and heart shaped lips. She has a habit of styling her coffee coloured hair in gloriously intricate displays of vintage throwbacks, and today’s no different.

She makes our school uniform look like some glorious fashion statement - from the neat folds of her pulled-back sleeves right down to the tips of her shiny brogues - offset by her clipped and curled dark hair, brushing against the slim gait of her shoulders. Hailey’s always looked like an actress straight out a vintage film and I’m childishly envious of how brilliantly she plays this up.

For all her brains, Carys seems slightly taken aback. I’d caught the odd rumor in the common room she wasn’t exactly Ms. Popular where the Ravenclaw girls were concerned - if her attitude towards fellow muggleborn Patti Freemand indicated anything (helped by the fact Patti’s older sister, Melinda, just so happens to be in the same year as Ruby’s brother) - but I’d never dreamed the definitive ‘It Girl’ of their dorm would be defending me to a fellow genius.

“That’s none of your business, Hailey...” She starts, but it’s clear she lacks true venom. Carys might fancy Richardson - rather blatantly, so it seems - but she’s never had his blazen indifference in the face of confrontation. 

“Considering what you’re prone to saying about  _ certain students _ Carys, I think it is.”

I almost feel sorry for Carys - her deflation is borderline physical as she sinks back into her robes. With one last glare in my direction, she spins tightly and stalks off. 

“Thanks a lot!” I say, looking to Hailey. 

“You're welcome,” she nods. “She had no right to talk to you that way.” There’s a pause. “And just so you know, the rest of us in Ravenclaw, we don’t agree with her about - well, you know - Muggle-borns, and everything. She’s out of order.”

I try for a smile, but I can’t help the unease rising in my chest. I am so not ashamed of my blood status, not in the slightest - but I can never seem to forget it. Even with Richardson himself quiet, it looks like I still can’t quite relax.

-

“So, you’re  _ sure  _ we can’t get a Niffler?”

I laugh through chattering teeth. “I thought I was meant to be the creature obsessive!”

It’s a typical British October day: chilly and crisp, the sky obscured by clouds the colour of granite. The Great Lake is pearl-grey, a vast, smooth expanse of water disturbed only by the splashing of the two second-years crazy enough to be swimming in it.

“Hey, it’s entirely your own fault,” Suzette says. “You took me to your club - you knew the risks!”

Yesterday I finally managed to convince Suzette to check out the club. Unsurprisingly, the promise of exciting facts did nothing to lure her in; the only thing that got her in the door was the chance of a meeting a Niffler in person. She’s been raving about them ever since.

I tread water. “I mean, I would kind of like one. But I’m being a model student this year, remember?”

“Oh, yeah?” She demands. “Why’re you out swimming and not working on that Charms essay I know for a  _ fact  _ you haven’t made a start on?”

I narrow my eyes and send a tidal wave of water over her head. She gasps in outrage and returns the favour, and I emerge spluttering with lakewater and laughter. 

She looks smug. “Alright there?” 

“Fine,” I level. “Good enough to pummel you at a few races. Up for it?”    
“Prepare to lose.” She says, and we launch into a series of fast-paced races. It’s only after we’ve won a handful each - no bragging rights either way, then - that Suzette and I drift back towards the bank, tired out. I rest both arms on the dew-damp grass, catching my breath, and then heave myself out the water. Suzette emerges in a typically graceful fashion, and by the time the two of us have dried off with a useful little hot-air charm Hermione taught me and pulled our robes on over our swimming costumes, the cold is abating.

“Oi oi!” Someone yells.

I look round to see a fair-haired Gryffindor hurrying towards us. “Hey, Attie!” I call.

“Don’t tell me you two went swimming?” He asks, eyeing the water apprehensively. “Looks arctic to me!”

“I thought you lions were all about daring feats.” Suzette says slyly. “Not afraid of the cold, are you?”

“Big talk coming from someone who’s too scared to fly on a broom.” He teases.

She rolls her eyes and grins. “Please, if you’re going to start droning on about Quidditch, have mercy on us and go somewhere else.”

“No chance,” he flops down next to us. “What’s up, then? Aside from hypothermia, obviously.” 

“Well, Diana finally dragged me to that club she’s been going on about.”   
“Yeah?” 

“You should come, Attie,” I say eagerly. “You’d like it.”

“I thought everything might seem a bit tame to you two after Krispy!”

I shrug. “I guess we can’t buy a dragon every year.”

“Pity.” Suzette sighs. 

“Wonder if the Hallo’ween feast tonight will be as good as last year’s?” Attie ponders.

“As long as there’s no Chamber of Secrets opened afterwards, it’ll be better.” I say, casting my mind back to last year, when we found Filch’s cat Petrified and a ten-foot high threat daubed on the wall and resist a shiver that has nothing to do with the lake.

“No way. This year’s gonna be a breeze after all that, it has to be.” Attie declares. “What could go wrong?”

There’s a moment of silence, I then I hear myself speak. “I don't trust Richardson.”

“Well,” Suzette says. “Bit slow on the uptake, maybe, but I’d say that not trusting Richardson is a pretty wise course of action.”

I laugh a little, roll my eyes. “No, I mean I’m getting suspicious about him.”   
“What’s he done?” Atticus asks.   
“Nothing - that’s the point!” I cast my mind back to last year. “Remember what happened last time he did nothing and left me alone? He was pretty much stalking me to try to dig up information on Krispy.”

Suzette runs a hand through her damp hair. “I know… but if he’s doing the same thing now, he’s going to come up empty-handed. I mean, Krispy isn’t here anymore.”

Suzette has a point, a comforting one, but there’s still a tiny knot of uncertainty in my stomach. “He’s always one step ahead, isn’t he?”

“D’you want me to listen in on him again?” She asks.

“I think we'd be fighting a losing battle there.” I sigh. “He's too good to give anything away.”

“I wish that Duelling Club was still around,” Attie says, clenching his fist around his wand.

“I don’t,” Suzette says. “Not with Lockhart teaching, anyway.” 

I smile a little, remembering how disastrous attempt our previous Defence teacher made at teaching us some combative magic. “What, you  _ don’t _ want to learn how to lose your wand and your dignity in one fell swoop?” 

“Don’t think he had much dignity to lose in the first place.” Suzette says. “Might’ve lost a few book deals, though.”

Attie laughs. “Oh - I’ve gotta go - said I’d meet Chance.” He says, scanning his watch and standing up.

“Good luck,” Suzette mumbles. 

“Oi, I heard that!”

“Good - it’ll be the last amusing thing you’ll hear for a while.”

He shakes his head, stifling a smile. “See you later, you two!”   
“Bye, Attie!” 

I stretch out my legs, run a hand through the damp frizz of my hair. Reluctantly, I remember the pile of homework waiting for my up at the castle.

“I guess we’d better get back, too.” I say, to no response. She’s staring after our Gryffindor friend as if in a trance. “Suz?”

“What?!” Her head snaps round. “Oh - yeah, sure.”   
“Distracted?” I probe. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Atticus, by any chance?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She shakes her head emphatically. “I mean, it’s not as if there’s anything at all going on.”

“Nothing?” I ask, a little less jokingly.

She gets to her feet and starts walking. “Of course not.”

  
“What about that Valentine’s Day card?” I ask, scurrying after her.

  
“That?” She waves a hand. “Oh, that’s  _ ancient  _ history, now.”   
“It was last year, Suz.” I say - not unreasonably, I think.

“Details.” She shrugs.

This is a subject I wouldn't object to pressing just a little further, but, luckily for Suzette, we’re upon the Great Hall. It’s decked out for the Hallowe’en feast, and the excitement in the air is palpable.

“See you later?”

  
Suzette gives me a wave. “Enjoy!”

  
I head off to the Hufflepuff table, locate the second-years, and settle down next to Greg, who smiles hello. Everyone’s admiring the decorations; masses of candle-lit pumpkins send eerie orange shadows flickering over the walls and a cloud of live bats flutter over the doorway. I grin as a flaming streamer floats idly over an oblivious Richard Finch-Fletchley’s head.

I stuff myself with roasted pumpkin and Honeydukes sweets very kindly smuggled back from Hogsmeade by Cedric Diggory for all us school-bound first and second years, and the evening’s festivities are capped off by the Hogwarts ghosts, appearing out the walls and tables and formation gliding under the ceiling (all except for the Bloody Baron, who’s much too dignified for such lighthearted things).

“Great show!” Blossom shouts to the Fat Friar, who throws her a grin and a salute before sliding into the teachers’ table.

By the end of the evening, my stomach aches from food and laughter, and as we all start to file out of the Hall I think of our cosy dorm room with anticipation. We all collapse onto armchairs and pouffes, and Ruby’s proposal of a Gobstones tournament is met with enthusiastic assent - but the laughter dies in the air when Professor Sprout bursts in, looking unusually serious.

“Everyone back in the Great Hall, please.”

There’s a moment of silence, confusion.

“Back in the Great Hall?!”

“Why?!”

“What’s happening?”

She ignores the questions. “Now, folks! Professor Dumbledore’s orders.” 

Everyone gets to their feet, the party atmosphere completely dead, and scurries back up to the Great Hall. It’s already full of students, crowded around in knots; the sound of heated muttering fills the room.

Greg looks to me anxiously. “What’s happening?”

“No idea!” But before I can say anything else equally useless I catch sight of an all-too familiar mane of brown hair. “Hermione!” I call.

My sister turns, her eyes widening as she spots me, and runs through the mass of students to meet us.

I’m about to ask what’s happening when she throws her arms around me; I blink, taken aback, and reciprocate the hug. I can’t help being reminded of our first night back, the day of the Dementor attack, and there’s a sinking feeling in my chest. It looks like things are hardly safer than they were last year. 

“What’s going on?” I say into her shoulder. “Have you been told anything?”

She pulls back, eyes wide. “Something’s happened, something really bad. There’s been a break-in.”

“What?! Who by?”

Hermione pauses, chewing her lip, then meets me eyes. “Sirius Black.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this is late! We were certain we'd updated the fic on both sites - you can also find Diana on fanfic dot net ;) - but apparently neither of us are as up to date as we thought xD Thanks so much for everyone who's read, left kudos and such - we hope you keep enjoying the ongoing adventures of Diana, Suz & Attie!
> 
> Cheers!  
> \- M


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